


Our lie to keep

by brickk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasizing, Marriage, Masturbation, Sex, Slow Burn, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickk/pseuds/brickk
Summary: Hermione feels trapped in her marriage with Ron...Until the chance for love comes along again. If only it were so simple.





	1. His birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this is a first fic, just a bit of fun and a distraction from needing to study for exams really. Of course none of these characters are my own creation and I do not claim credit for any attribute. Hope you enjoy :)

Hermione had sworn herself off drinking; not that she had a problem, but who needed veritaserum when there was butterbeer and fire whiskey chasers. And she couldn’t afford to slip up, not tonight. The last two years had been so consumed in untruths, each one incrementally stacking on the next until she couldn’t see past the wall she’d built. The wall between she and him. Ron. Her…husband.

She glanced in the mirror across the dining room and felt a shudder ripple through her. Husband, it felt like a dirty word, something unbelonging. But here she was, the eve of their third wedding anniversary, his 25th birthday, soon to paint on a well-worn smile and drift into the role she’d let herself inhabit. ‘Wife’…’daughter-in-law’…’Ex-insufferable-know-it-all-whose-career-now-took-second-place-to-his because “HE’s a PROFFESSIONAL quidditch player didn’t you know?!?”’ And who could forget, her favourite, ‘receiver-of-pointed-abdominal-glances as “it’s been three years, come on old girl, let’s not wait for the grass to grow”’. Hermione scoffed and slammed the wand in her palm against the table, its sharp slap couldn’t be heard through the ringing in her ears.

Those thoughts were immediately strangled at the sound of the floo as Ron came barreling into the living room.

“Alright love? Place looks great, when’s it kicking off then, have I got time to nip down the pub with Seamus?”.

Somehow, between the ten steps from the fireplace to the dining room, he’d already managed to stuff half a pastie into his mouth and flake crumbs all over the floor she’d spent the afternoon shining to high heaven. He’d been out with his team mates all day, despite Hermione asking him to clear the yard and set up the marquee. ‘It’s my birthday!! Let a man rest for a day in his bleedin’ life ‘Mioney’.

“Sure”, she sighed and smiled listlessly, “Just be back by seven”.

“You’re all under control ‘ere? Don’t need me to do anything before I come back?” His eyes were doing that thing, where he was asking a question but begging her not to give the right answer. A scrunched-up feint of concern creasing his freckled brow.

“No, no. Your Mum’s bringing all the food so we’re set really, go on”

“You’re a diamond, you are”. He flashed a relieved grin, gave her a quick peck to the side of the mouth and was off.

Hermione walked to the kitchen, making the final rounds before getting changed and welcoming the onslaught. On her way down the hall she thoughtlessly picked up her purse; the beaded one with the undetectable extension charm, she’d barely had a use for it since the war. As she reached inside her fingertips brushed the end of a handkerchief and twitched as she fought the urge to unwrap what lay inside. She couldn’t, not right now. Not again. She buried the portkey deeper within the folds of the purse and turned to hang it up at the very back of the closet. Guilt lanced through her and she summoned all the strength she had to occlude her mind from the path she’d almost run down a minute earlier.

Later that evening Hermione and Ron’s modest cottage was packed to the rafters with ginger hair and cheeky grins. Harry and Ginny’s boy was tearing around on a miniature broom wreaking havoc on anything below knee height, green eyes alight with mischief.

Ginny was ready to pop with number two any day now and welcomed having Hermione as a companion on the elderflower fizz. They sat in the window seat overlooking the carnage and Hermione tried to ignore the knowing glances she received at declining a glass of bubbles for Ron’s birthday toast.

The conversation with Ginny was comfortable, they had spent so much of the last five years together their friendship felt biological. As Hermione watched her absent-mindedly follow James’ path of destruction around the living room, she could see her making meaningful eye contact with Harry every now and then. Their smallest interactions were so intimate it felt almost intrusive to Hermione. In the beginning she had always thought of their relationship as volatile. Harry had been so fractured after the war and Ginny had always seemed impatient to just move on with life, start a family and act like it had never happened. But now, it was clear to everyone they were each other’s anchors, and there was a calmness about being around them. It made Hermione feel even worse when she thought about her own marriage.

“I’m not trying to be funny, but you’re twitching about like you’ve got a potions exam on tomorrow morning, what’s happening in that head?” Ginny pulled Hermione from her thoughts with a laugh.

“Oh, am I?” Hermione feigned innocence and two small spots of pink began to bloom high on her cheeks.

“Come on, I know I’m the size of a sperm whale but I’m not letting you sit here like Miss sober mopey, moaning Myrtle, come dance!”

With that, Ginny pulled her up, rolling her shoulders and wiggling her hips suggestively. They spun out the side door toward the crowd haphazardly swaying around the blue bonfire cracking merrily in the middle of the gazebo.

The conversations had started to grow louder with drink. Ron, Harry, George and Lee Jordan were well on their way to merry oblivion having polished off two bottles of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey and stumbling upon the honey mead Hermione had put aside for special occasions.

“I’m a lucky man lads” Ron boomed over the din to “here here’s” and “still don’t know what she sees in you ya git”. He sidled up to Hermione just as she’d broken away to find a seat and catch her breath, and sloppily pulled her up and into his side. “Cheerss to th bess girl I know…and bess wife” he slurred to general applause and the odd lecherous wink. Hermione blushed appropriately, but from agitation rather than endearment. Not that you could tell from the demure grin and laugh she managed to put on for the crowd.

It was a perfect picture, friends and family all together. She forced herself to think it, how many of their friends had never lived to have this, never lived beyond their seventh year at Hogwarts. ‘I’m lucky’ she repeated over and over as they said goodbye to the last of the Weasleys and Molly kissed her cheek and fussed over them both.

She let Ron make love to her that night, after the guests had departed and she’d wandlessly set the dishes to washing and stacking themselves away. He breathed heavily against her cheek, pushing himself frantically between her thighs and palming clumsily at her breasts. As he came, his face grew taught in exaltation, sweat dripped from his forehead and onto her, running into her eyes, stinging.

He rolled sideways off of her and was soon snoring. Hermione slowly unclenched her teeth, releasing the tension from her jaw that had been there all night. She stared at the ceiling and thought of Draco.


	2. It's Official

**September 2000 4 years earlier**

“Bloody Merlin, you _didn’t_?!!”

Ginny threw herself down on the couch and covered her face in mock horror.

“You’ve just apparated in the door at…” she pretended to check a non-existent timepiece “well past breakfast-time, looking like you’ve spent all night shagging!” she made a retching noise and flipped onto her stomach, burying her head in the pillow “…with my _brother_”.

“I’m going to obliviate myself” came a muffled groan.

Ginny sat bolt upright, “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head somewhere along the way in the final battle?? Are you Ill?” She walked over to Hermione who was determinedly ignoring the theatrics by putting on the kettle, the muggle way of course, and gingerly felt her forehead.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved her off, “Just because you and I live together doesn’t mean we have to talk about…this.” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her hair, which was considerably more disheveled and voluminous than when she’d departed their shared flat the previous evening.

“At least we had the decency to go back to his and Harry’s flat. Something you two might consider once in a while…” She looked pointedly at Ginny who had snatched back her hand and continued retching as if Hermione hadn’t spoken.

“Oh bugger off Gin, I’m going to bed, didn’t get much sleep last night” Hermione licked her teaspoon and gave Ginny the sauciest look she could, just to piss her off for embarrassing her the moment she’d arrived home.

She knew Ginny was a wind-up who couldn’t help herself and didn’t actually care about her and Ron. If anything, she loved having Hermione as a potential, future sister-in-law; a far better prospect than Lavender Brown had been at any rate. But Hermione didn’t want to be teased, not right now. Right now, she felt different. Good. Something profound had happened last night, she’d crossed that chasm into a world she’d often hear the other girls whispering about with smug authority in the dormitory when they were meant to be falling asleep. She was part of the club. 

Hermione set her cup of tea down on the bedside table and flopped into bed. The act itself hadn’t been exactly…pleasurable. If anything, the entire process had felt a bit clinical. She started to run through the mental highlights reel, cringing at the moments she’d tried to be sexy and confident, and look like she knew what she was doing.

Not that Ron was wildly experienced; he had been with Lavender in their 6th year, and a few women he refused to talk about when he had left her and Harry while they were on the run during the war. She didn’t care that there had been others before her, but it had seemed a little hypocritical that Ron was so obsessed with her virginity, and the taking there-of.

They had waited, she had wanted to. Hermione had needed to know their relationship was more than just the bond of living through Voldemort’s defeat together. She knew now, deep in her core, they were right. This was it for her, Love.

At that moment a memory of her parents sprang forth. Her father used to make breakfast for her and her Mother when she was home for the holidays. He’d tell them stories and monologue about life and its meaning. ‘To love good, you’ve got to know how to fight good Hermione’, she almost couldn’t bear the look that passed between the two of them after that.

Well, she and Ron certainly fought. So that was good…right? She closed her eyes before she could second guess the previous evenings events further and drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Hermione had woken from her nap and left the sanctuary of her room to find Ginny starting on dinner and Harry propped on the arm of her couch reading a quidditch magazine. “Afternoon” he said, with practiced innocence that didn’t quite match the expression in his eyes.

She walked over, sat next to him with a sigh and tried to act like it was all a joke “Don’t…”, she tipped her head onto the back of the couch.

“I wasn’t going to” he laughed and thrust the magazine under her nose. “Check out your boyfriend”

Hermione glanced down to see a large photo of Ron, resplendent in his orange Chudley Cannon robes, swishing through the air and booting a quaffle spectacularly away from the quidditch hoops. He was their newest keeper- benched keeper, but he was certain he’d be in the starting team within the year.

“He was certainly chipper when he left for Devon this morning” Harry smiled widely.

“I said don’t” she snatched the magazine from his hands and hit him soundly on the shoulder.

“It’ll be weird with him gone for the season; the flat feels too clean already”

“mmm” Hermione agreed, thinking ahead to the next four months with Ron away training. It had barely been four hours and she already missed him terribly. “Well, I’ve got my new job with the department of International Magical Cooperation starting in a few weeks and I’ve got so much research to do before I start its probably good timing”

“You’re allowed to act like you like him you know” Harry looked down at her.

Ginny gave her a genuine smile from the kitchen “We’re happy for you guys, it’s about time you both stopped pretending you’re not in love”.


	3. Day one

**October 2000 (3 weeks later)**

Hermione was wide awake and buzzing with nerves. She had been so keyed up before she went to sleep the previous evening, she had over-tuned her small wireless radio to static and meditated on the white noise until she could finally drift off. It’s snowy hum now painfully invaded her brain and she stretched to the windowsill behind her headboard to turn it off.

*05:00* blinked back at her in glowing green numerals. She groaned and continued to arch backwards cracking her spine in the process and willing her limbs to greet the day. There was no such thing as too good a first impression, may as well get up and put the early morning to use.

Forty-five minutes later saw her seated at the small dining room table thumbing through position papers on the recent changes to the Statue of Secrecy and the European Magical Quorum’s response, as well as the Ministry’s recent bid for the upcoming 2002 Quidditch World Cup. Not that she was interested in that particular event, but now it was her job to know, and if that meant reading every bloody magical text on Quidditch then so be it.

Ginny’s bedroom door swung open and a riot of black hair made its way sleepily into the living area. “Morning ‘Mioney” Harry’s eyes quickly widened as he took in Hermione’s immaculately sleek hair and deep oxblood robes. “Merlin, you’ve gone all out”.

“Yes, well, first impressions, all that” She replied tightly, and continued flicking through texts at the speed of a snitch.

“Wanna go in together? I’m starting the early shift at the D.M.L.E, we can get breakfast on the way – my treat!” Harry turned to look at her from the bathroom door and smiled expectantly, ensuring she wasn’t so immersed in her readings she hadn’t heard him.

“ok, sounds good”. She hadn't looked up. 

\---000---

Harry sat a large cappuccino and custard danish in front of Hermione and started tucking into his kippers and toast like a starving man.

“Thank you”, she nibbled a corner of the pastry, “Feels like ages since we’ve done something just us two…Not that it’s not great when the four of us are all together”. She sipped her cappuccino and awkwardly looked over Harry’s shoulder not making eye contact.

“How are things with you and Gin? I’m not trying to pry, I just…hear you both arguing sometimes…not that Ron and I are any better I suppose” Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Those tempers must be a genetic trait” Harry laughed lightly and wiped his mouth. “They’re great. Actually…” He shifted in his seat looking slightly nervous, “I was going to tell you, seeing as I already talked to Ron about it just before he left. I’m going to ask Ginny to marry me, over Halloween. Take her up to Scotland for the weekend and everything” He ran a hand through his hair anxiously and waited for Hermione to react.

“Oh Harry, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you both, she’s going to be over the moon” Hermione jumped up to give him a hug and felt a squeezing inside her chest, it really was wonderful that they were taking the next step, if it was what Harry wanted. She supposed it was only a matter of time before she and Ron followed. The thought set off a smattering of butterflies in her stomach, which quickly amplified as she checked her watch and realized they’d best be on their way into the Ministry to start the day.

"Harry, it's not that I don't want to talk all about this and hear everything you've got planned, but we really have to go. Let's have a drink again before the weekend. Oh my god, I want to see the ring!" She almost squealed in a very un-Hermione fashion. She took a deep breath and put it down to over excitement from first day jitters. 

\---000---

Hermione threw her shoulders back and chin up as she walked briskly from the lifts down the corridor to her new department offices. The receptionist, Auriga Munroe, a curvaceous Hufflepuff who had graduated a few years before Hermione, greeted her warmly and showed her through to the Department Heads office for her orientation.

Celestina Boardman peered brightly over her tortoiseshell glasses as Hermione entered her large corner office.

“Good morning Miss Granger, it’s such a pleasure to have you start with us”, she stood and leaned forward to shake her hand, firmly, Hermione noted with approval. She liked her very much already.

“Shall we get you settled in? Your associate arrived only a few moments before you did and is getting set up in your shared work space”. Celestina gestured for Hermione to make her way through the door and back out to the office floor.

“A..Associate?”, Hermione stammered and tried to act nonchalant by shifting her tote bag around to her other arm.

“Oh yes, you can’t imagine we’d leave you to tackle all that legislation on your own? Of course, being the brightest witch of your age I’ve no doubt you’d manage somehow, but we’d rather you didn’t burn out before Christmas” Celestina arched her brows and smiled kindly. She turned a corner and stopped in front of a double office.

A double office with a distinct head of platinum hair currently arranging itself elegantly behind the desk with the clearly superior view and leg room.

“Well look what the kneazle dragged in…” a pair of grey eyes smirked at her and Hermione felt a cold sweat break out between her shoulder blades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done a little back editing with dates to make the timeline a wee bit more understandable. Hope it all makes sense :)


	4. Research

Hermione felt like she was going to throw up. There had to be some sort of mistake. She whirled around, panicked eyes darting to Celestina who had been out of the door frame just far enough not to hear Draco’s greeting.

It was clear, by her employers unfazed expression, that while Celestina was an exceptionally bright witch, she lacked the ability to pick up on the subtleties of social interactions; like the enormous fireball of tension that had just erupted in the office.

“Miss Granger, this is Mr Malfoy, you’ll be working together on the international magical policy liaison team. Get settled and we’ll meet in let’s say…half an hour? We can go over your case-load and talk about the upcoming projects I’ll need you both on top of. It’s a pleasure to have you both, I know you’ll be an excellent team and an asset to the department”. With that, she nodded to them and exited as a flurry of office memos swooped past the hallway.

Hermione turned stiffly toward the unoccupied desk, not yet ready to make eye contact or acknowledge his presence. This was her job, goddammit! She took a deep breath in and released it slowly. She didn’t need an associate. Certainly not a slimy ferret like Malfoy to loll about and take credit for all her hard work and preparation.

She sat down and began unpacking her tote bag. Trying desperately to keep her cool, Hermione took out her pens and notebooks purposefully and set to straightening them at right angles to the edges of her desk. The harder she focused on tuning him out and organizing her belongings, the more tiny licks of magic started to crackle at the ends of her once smooth curls, giving her away.

“You know Granger, if you grip that stationary any harder one might think you weren’t happy to see me”. He cocked an innocent brow toward her, and his smirk grew larger.

Hermione took another deep breath in, counted to four, and tilted her chin up to meet his taunting gaze.

“Alright Malfoy let’s get it out of your system. Come on, call me a know-it-all mudblood and we can move on. Because I, for one, would actually like to get on with doing my job here”. Her small speech was punctuated by a particularly vibrant spark arcing from the baby hairs now standing on end at her temple.

Draco smoothed an index finger over his grin before standing to head out to their boss’s office for the joint meeting. “I do hope that right arm’s not out of practice for the pop quiz Granger, I imagine it just flies into the air as a reflex by now”. His eyes flashed and he strode out, leaving her fuming in his wake.

\---000---

Hermione’s temper had only worsened as the day wore on, and when she called Ron through the floo that evening she was practically spitting with fury.

“What in Merlin’s name is he even doing working for the ministry?!” she raged, “He’s got enough money to just bugger off and leave the rest of us in peace. I can’t believe Celestina would consider hiring him! A Malfoy, doing anything positive for wizard relations? What a joke!” Hermione laughed mirthlessly and waited for Ron to back her up, as she knew he would. He could always be counted on to join in on some Malfoy mud-slinging.

“If that stupid blonde prat gives you any trouble, I’ll be straight back to London to make sure he never sets foot in that office again, ruddy twat”. His words did little to ease her frustration.

“Hey ‘Mione…” Ron’s tone abruptly changed, became softer. “I thought maybe I’d come and visit… and stay next weekend. We’ve got a bye match, and Harry and Ginny will be up in Scotland so…we could have some privacy” His eyes darkened to match the embers and Hermione felt a shiver run up her.

“Yes..” She answered lamely, “I mean, I’d like that”. For some reason she felt shier about it after they’d had sex for the first time. She just knew she wanted it to be better, less fumbling and more just, giving herself over to the moment of it all. She needed to do some research; she made a mental note to tackle that subject later.

“Right, good, well, some of the boys are going out for a drink so I’m off. See you in a week, miss you ‘Mione” Ron disappeared from view and Hermione sat staring at the fire, still feeling aftershocks of anger from the day’s events roll through her. 

\---000---

The following morning Hermione’s eyes were assaulted by an enormous and lurid bunch of orange gerberas perched atop her desk in the pattern of two intertwining C’s, for Chudley Cannons.

“I see you’ve informed the weasel about our working together then” came a drawl from the opposing corner.

“Unlike you, I don’t imagine Ron needs an ulterior motive for doing something romantic” Hermione shot back in reflex. “They’re lovely”, she lied.

Draco snorted, “The day I take cues on romance from Weasley is the day I join a Monks order. I find subtlety much more effective. If he wanted everyone in the ministry to know he’d claimed you, he could have just marked his territory like a crup; it’d be cheaper, and Merlin knows he needs the gold.”

Hermione’s cheeks flamed. She briskly waved her wand to transfigure the flowers into a less obvious arrangement and placed the vase on the bookshelf behind her. By the time she’d turned around Draco was skimming through a large volume on the Western European Magical Alliance as if they hadn’t interacted. She ground her molars together and picked up her papers to start the day.

As the week wore on, she began to begrudgingly realise that the absolute worst part of being stuck working with Malfoy was that he was quite good at their job. He actually had very good ideas and an authority when they were in meetings that commanded attention and respect. That he had the audacity to correct her when she got the date wrong regarding the earliest goblin rebellion made her blood boil. But he didn’t rely on her to keep the team afloat, he pulled his weight, unlike Harry and Ron had throughout their school years. Regardless, she couldn’t stand him, and was quite sure that would never change.

\---000---

As Friday finally came to a close, Hermione left the Ministry and apparated into muggle London. She’d picked up some magazines earlier in the week, the girly ones her cousins used to fawn over when they were younger. She knew they were essentially just trashy photos and sex tips under the guise of muggle journalism, so thought they would be a good place to start her research.

After pouring through the more cringe worthy articles, Hermione had come to the conclusion that if she wanted to improve her and Ron’s sex-life she needed to start by taking matters into her own hands. Ever pragmatic, she made her way stealthily into an adult store and purchased a vibrator. It was discreet, nothing flashy, but Marie Claire had given it a five-star rating and that was good enough for her.

By the time Hermione arrived back to the flat Ginny and Harry had left for their weekend up north, and Ron wasn’t due to arrive until late Saturday morning. She sat her purchase on the counter and went into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. She was nervous, it was silly, it’s her own vagina for Merlin’s sake! If she couldn’t touch it properly who was going to?!

Hermione knocked back her wine in one smooth gulp, grabbed the package and headed into her bedroom. She stripped to her knickers and lay back on the duvet, head cradled in the mass of fluffy white pillows. The curved shaft was smooth and weighty in her palm, she turned it on and felt it hum in her hand as she gingerly brought it down, over her middle, and between her legs.

It was…_holy shit. _She bit her lip to keep from yelping. As she started to rub it slowly over her ever-tightening bundle of nerves she conjured a fantasy and imagined Ron’s hand in its place. Left arm moving up and winding into her hair, pretending that was his as well. Slowly, fingertips skimming down her neck and rounding to cup her breast, caress, and gently pull her nipple. She gasped as both her nipples tightened to hard, pebbled buds in unison. Heat began slowly building in her core. Her hips canted forward and she pressed down harder, breath coming in short bursts as the sensation built. A frenzy of vibration was spreading out from her centre and licking at her toes and fingertips. She imagined Ron’s fingers dipping lower, slipping in and out, faster and faster. In her mind she saw his face, it was him only…leaner, harder, features sharpened somehow. He was more confident and possessive, in control of her body. She had an image of his head moving between her thighs, tongue reaching out to press into her core. As he looked up to see how she liked it and their gaze met his eyes were grey and wild. She shattered in that instant, cried out, knees shaking, left-hand twisting wildly into her sheets.

Hermione lay in her solitary after glow and thought back to the moment she exploded. It was a fantasy, she told herself shakily, catching her breath. They weren’t meant to be logical; it could have been anyone.

She tried out her new toy two more times that evening. Just to make sure she’d been using it correctly, and to banish the first, more powerful, fantasy from her mind.


	5. Yes, I think

Hermione downed a pepper-up potion and two coffees in the space of twenty minutes and proceeded to flit about the flat like a mad woman getting things ready for Ron’s arrival. Her previous evening’s research had left her deliciously exhausted, and she was more than keen to put her newly acquired knowledge to use.

The gerberas she’d brought home from the office and charmed with a preserving spell had just been artfully arranged on the dining table when a swift crack announced his arrival at the door step. Hermione jumped, her stomach lurching in anticipation of seeing Ron after his four weeks away training.

He helped himself through the front door, not bothering to knock, and smiled lopsidedly at the vision she made standing with midday sun streaming in behind her.

“Hi” they both said in unison, and laughed, drinking each other in.

“Bloody hell, I’ve missed you”, he closed the space between them and planted a moist kiss on her mouth, squeezing her to himself.

She sighed; she had missed him. She almost hadn’t realized how much until she had him back. This was nice, comfortable, he was her home. Her arms curved around his shoulders drawing him closer, resting her head against his chest.

A slowly increasing pressure against her abdomen brought Hermione’s attention sharply into focus, and she twitched and jerked back slightly, feeling at once suddenly shy in his presence.

Mind grappling for something to say, “Would you like some tea?” she blurted, releasing him and striding with purpose to the kitchen, setting about collecting mugs and sugar.

“Well it wasn’t the first thing I was thinking of, but since you’re offering, sure,” Ron landed heavily on the couch, the tips of his ears starting to glow at her sudden rebuff.

They caught up on the time spent apart from each other. Ron had no end of tales of the spectacular saves he’d wished she had seen.

“You wouldn’t believe Hermione! Bludger heading straight for me head, and with only one hand left hanging on the broom, I get in there, and knee the quaffle right back in that stupid gits face”.

She smiled and made impressed sounding noises at all the right moments. He was clearly happy in the team, and it certainly seemed as though he’d improved since their school days. Thank Merlin she no longer had to confund the opposing team just to keep up his confidence.

Ron also had no end to ‘lad stories’, the practical jokes they would all play on each other, which always seemed to be some sort of variation on a theme of levicorpus with someone ending up being pantsed publicly. There was also a running tally of the number of butterbeer pints they each managed to scull after practices, a sport in which ‘Weasley is our King’ had taken on a new meaning. It all seemed a bit barbaric to Hermione, if she was being honest.

Once the subject of quidditch and the Chudley Cannons had been thoroughly exhausted, Ron’s mouth turned down with distaste and Hermione could sense where the conversation was leading.

“So, how’s it spending all day with the blonde prat then?”

A vision of said prat from the previous evening came unbidden to Hermione and she needed to distract herself, wash that thought away.

“Let’s not talk about that”, she tried her best to sound sultry and moved to swing her leg around, shifting herself onto Ron’s lap. His eyes widened, “Blimey”, he said, as she worked her hands through his hair and softly kissed his parted lips.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, shall we?” Hermione bit her lower lip in a practiced move, as described in multiple magazine columns on seduction. Ron’s eyes were glazed, mouth slack, it was obviously working she thought proudly.

\---000---

Somewhere along the line something had gotten derailed. Hermione and Ron sat stiffly beside each other under the covers. He was angry, she felt embarrassed. Apparently showing your boyfriend your vibrator midway through sex and asking him to use it on you wasn’t the right thing to do?

“Way to bloody-well emasculate a bloke, Hermione” Ron grumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She had thought he would be all for it. Even though it was a muggle object he probably hadn’t heard of, and he might find it a bit odd at first, she certainly hadn’t expected Ron to act like she’d doused him with ice water.

“How’s a man supposed to feel when his bird wants a plastic willy more than the real thing? Am I not enough for you?” His hands had started to gesticulate wildly, and Hermione could sense an epic Ron sulk coming on.

“No, no, of course you are!”, she ran her hands through her tangled hair in resignation. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just wanted to try something I’d read about. We don’t need to; I don’t need it…” She touched his shoulder, willing him to look at her. After a beat he met her gaze and seemed satisfied she was remorseful for the perceived slight against his virility and prowess.

A small stab of unease was twisting inside Hermione, every couple went through these things she rationalised. They just needed time to figure out how they fit together, literally. And she didn’t have to use the vibrator with Ron, it could just be her little secret.

\---000---

Ron had recovered by the next morning and was being so over the top attentive Hermione wasn’t quite sure what was going on. They had taken a long walk down from the flat into Diagon Alley and had a delicious lunch at Fortescue’s, after which Ron had proudly whipped out a fistful of galleons from his first paycheck to settle the bill– “Keep the change, Florean”.

As they continued ambling along the cobblestone street Ron abruptly stopped in front of a store front.

“What do you think?,” He asked nervously.

Hermione looked up to the wooden sign adorning the lintel ‘Heliodor Prewitt’s Fine Jewels’ it sparkled. “What do you mean?” she frowned back at him, at a loss for what was happening.

“I mean, what if we chose one…” he suddenly knelt to the ground, grasping her hand and looking her squarely in the eyes, “And what if you were my wife?”.

Hermione was frozen in shock; it was so unexpected she felt at once about to laugh and cry. Four hundred miles away this was supposed to be Harry and Ginny, she never once thought Ron would be doing this so soon, the surprise hit her like a freight train. Every possible end to this scenario flashed before her eyes and she realized she was taking too long to respond.

A small group of witches and wizards had obviously realized what was happening and started to gather around them. Hermione could just make out their hushed appraisals of the scene over the buzzing in her ears.

“Of..Of course I will…yes”, she stammered. As soon as the words left her lips, she felt a clenching in her stomach. This was what she wanted, this was right, she told herself as Ron scooped her up and kissed her soundly in front of the adoring crowd.


	6. The apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realise I really should have made this clear at the start, but this story is a Dramione slow-burner. I hadn't completely intended for it to be that way, but it sort of just went down that path before I could control it. For those enjoying - hope it's not a deal breaker :)

The four of them; Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had stayed up until the early hours of the morning filling each other in about the events of their respective weekends, and how they’d all ended up simultaneously betrothed. Truth be told, Hermione had been slightly mortified that she and Ron had stolen Harry and Ginny’s thunder. This weekend was supposed to be about _them_ and _their_ love! As much as she’d settled into the surprise over the course of the afternoon and had started to very much look like the kneazle who caught the cauldron cake, she also felt a nagging guilt that Ginny might be cross when she found out. Hermione had insisted they not tell anyone, at least until they’d had time to share the news with their two best friends.

In fact, Ginny had sat on the floor and roared with laughter when Hermione’s face promptly flamed, and she help up her left hand to display the teardrop shaped garnet ring she and Ron had picked out.

“Jinx?”, Hermione offered nervously.

“Gods, well I might have guessed now that you’d both stopped being idiots about it, you’d just shack-up the minute you had the chance”, she wiped joyful tears from her eyes and stood to pull them all into a fierce hug. Just as soon, she released them to arm’s length but maintained a firm grip on each of their shoulders, “but, if you think for one minute you’re stealing the spotlight on our actual wedding day, I’ll bat bogey you both so hard you won’t know you have a wedding to go to!”

Her smile held firm, but there was a maniacal glint in her eye that Hermione didn’t doubt she meant every word.

“Bloody hell, Mum’s going to do her nut she’ll be so excited when we tell her.” Ron groaned, “thank Merlin you’re the only daughter so she’ll be all over you with Mother-of-the-bride nonsense and might leave me in peace.”

Hermione instantly withdrew, the conversation became a background hum and tears pricked the back of her eyelids. It had only just hit her that she would never get to have that. She had never spent overly much time fantasizing about her wedding day, but when she had there was never a question of her Mum being involved in every part of it. She needed her there to calm her down when the gravity and emotion of it all became too much for her logical brain. Hermione’s chest squeezed with desperate longing. She needed her Dad just as much, he had always kept her grounded, steady as a ship. Who would walk her down the aisle now?

Her parents weren’t even really her parents anymore. Try as she had after the war, Hermione had been too late to save Wendell and Monica Wilkins from the after-effects of extreme obliviation. By the time she managed to find them in Australia their memories were never able to be restored.

‘Post-prolonged obliviation disorder’ the healers had called it. No amount of literature searching had yielded an answer or a cure. Hermione had even delayed starting work at the ministry for six months while she scoured European and Australasian magical libraries for something that could bring back their memories, all to no avail.

She had checked in on them regularly at first, had even tried to befriend them, but it was like her presence in their lives could never stick. Each hello was the first hello. Eventually it had been too painful to keep going back. They had made a life so complete for themselves in Melbourne, without her. For her own sanity Hermione had had to let them go. But it didn’t stop the ache of birthdays and Christmases without them, and now this; her first big, life event since the war had taken them away from her.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and looked up to see three pairs of concerned eyes trained on her.

“I’m sorry ‘Mione, I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t even think.”, Ron gripped her hand firmly.

“You know we’re your family. We’ll all be there to help and support you every step of the way.” Harry said earnestly, his green eyes awash with unshed tears for his own parents.

\---000---

For the first time since they had begun working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation Hermione beat Draco to the office. She sat down at her desk and basked in the peaceful silence.

A large memo promptly flew in around the door which she had left slightly ajar and landed squarely in the center of her desk, upsetting the neat row of quills she had just finished arranging. Hermione unfolded the stiff paper and began to read. The presence of one Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger was requested in the Wizengamot courtrooms at 9am sharp for a second hearing of the amendments to the Statue of Secrecy.

Getting this bill through for presentation and agreement with the European Magical Quorum was essentially the entirety of her and Draco’s current role in the department. However, when they had departed the Ministry on Friday evening the hearing hadn’t been planned for another month. The fact that it had been unceremoniously brought forward set Hermione’s heart beating painfully against her ribs. Apparently Minister Shacklebolt was sick of the prevarication from the Quorum and wanted the legislation to be put to bed.

She wiped her palms on her robes and nervously checked her timepiece waiting for Draco to arrive. As the minutes ticked by Hermione grew more and more tense and she began to pace the office floor. She had already assembled all their files and notes from the previous week and just needed that bloody ferret to turn up so they could head down to the courtrooms.

Hermione contemplated leaving a howler at his desk for him to find upon his arrival and just running down to the courtrooms by herself, but something stopped her. It wasn’t like Malfoy to be late, not this post-Hogwarts Malfoy anyway, who seemed to surprise her every workday with both dizzying insight and blind-siding vileness.

It was ten minutes to nine, if she didn’t head down now the court would be in session before she got there and both she and Malfoy would be locked out. One of them had to be there, and all the better for her to be seen to be the punctual and effective member of their ill put-together duo, she thought maliciously.

Hermione sped down the cold and darkened hallway, curls flying out behind her and files teetering precariously in her arms. She made it to her seat just as the doors slammed shut and Minister Shacklebolt announced the session commenced. Her breath was coming in gasps and she tried to surreptitiously smooth her hair down after she set the files on the bench before her.

She turned to her right and there he was, the bloody git, not a hair out of place leaning back nonchalantly in his chair. _How in Merlin’s name had he made it to the court before her when she had picked up the memo?? _

Malfoy made a show of peering down at his timepiece and back up to her with a look of gleeful derision. “On-time is late you know, Granger” he said leaning toward her ear with a staged whisper. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“How the hell did you get here before me, Malfoy?” She hissed back at him from the corner of her mouth, while furiously making notes of everything the chief Warlock was busy presenting to the court.

“Oh, I met Minister Shacklebolt in the atrium this morning and came down.” He managed to both whisper and drawl, the effect of which was gratingly pompous. “He gave me the inside track on the amendments today, but by all means keep scratching away there Granger.” He turned back to face forward with a smirk.

As the debating between the members of the Wizengamot lengthened well into its third hour, even Draco had had to pull out a quill and leant over to borrow a piece of parchment from Hermione to jot down notes. ‘_Not so in the know now’_, she thought with satisfaction and smiled to herself.

They soon found themselves jockeying for space on the narrow bench. Hermione had never noticed Malfoy was left handed, every time he started a new paragraph their elbows would knock sending a strange electric shock feeling straight to her belly. She huffed and moved to the very far side of her seat. 

By the time they made it back up to the fifth floor later that afternoon the number of notes they had to follow-up on, and the amount of research needing to be done to back up the Ministry’s position, would see them working well into next week. The Wizengamot had given them 48 hours to finish a final draft.

Hermione sighed as she divvyed the pile of files between herself and Draco, “Well, I hope Mummy and Daddy aren’t expecting you home for dinner Malfoy, I imagine we’ll be here all night”. Two could play snarky and she’d grown tired of being the diplomat when he was always trying to get a rise out of her.

“My Father’s dead, Granger.” He said matter-of-factly, picking up the first file and thumbing through the pages. “And as my Mother’s currently in southern France I imagine my company is not expected”.

“I’m sorry, I..I didn’t know” she said, instantly wishing she’d just kept her mouth shut.

“Yeah, well, Azakaban isn’t known for prolonging life expectancy.” He said in a low voice, almost as if he were talking to himself. They lapsed into silence.

Presently Hermione’s concentration was broken by the sound of juicy crunching from across the room. She looked up to see Malfoy had produced a large green apple and was devouring it as he read. The sound was jarring, but she couldn’t help noticing the way he brought it to his lips. How they caressed the crisp green skin, and the flick of his wrist as he pulled it away and brought his head down to absently write in the margins of his text. It made her feel…uncomfortable. He looked up and caught her eye just as she realized she had been staring far too long. Hermione snapped her head toward her book, knowing the blush on her cheeks was giving her away. She dared not look in his direction again.

After several more hours of fact checking, re-drafting, and proof-reading, the only sound being that of memo’s swooping in and out of the room, Hermione couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Why are you here, Malfoy?” She asked accusingly.

“This is our office, Granger.” He shot back jovially without looking up.

“I know this is our bloody office you…” She took a deep breath realizing she’d already let her temper get out of hand and started again calmly. “I mean why are you working this job, you’ve got more money than the Wizengamot and the Quorum combined, what are you doing this for?”

Malfoy sat back from his work and eyed her severely. “Is this the part where because I’ve shared something about my life you now expect me to bare my soul, give you all my painful little secrets and then we can knit sweaters together and braid your bushy hair.” His silver eyes we’re filled with scorn, “you bloody griffindor’s are so obsessed with finding a charity case, soon you’ll be championing all the ex-death eaters”.

“Im not, that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just figure, we’re going to be working together for a while…we may as well try to be civil…” She trailed off lamely.

“Civility isn’t really good for my image” he shot back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

It was almost three in the morning by the time Hermione stood up and walked her completed portion of the amendments over to Draco’s desk. As she lay them down beside his, his eyes snapped to her left hand and she realized he was staring at her engagement ring, lip curling and eyes wide. She felt a blush crawl up her neck to the tips of her ears.

“It happened just yesterday we’re…very happy”, she said stiffly.

At that, he stood and stalked over to grab his cloak from the hook by the door.

“Well I’d hate to give you the impression that I take any interest whatsoever in your or the weasel’s life Granger.” Any and all traces of civility gone, he turned on his heel and left the office.


	7. The mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat! A chapter from Draco's POV?? Who saw that coming..not me! Hah!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little pre-warning, reference to minor drug use in this one, fairly innocuous but take care of yourself if that's something that may be an issue. :)

“FUCK!”

Shattering crystal reverberated throughout the abyss of the Malfoy manor atrium. Draco reparo’d the 17th century vase just so he could throw it again, this time into the fireplace from whence he arrived.

His elbows leaned heavily onto the mantle, head hanging forward as he scrunched his fingers roughly into his hair.

“_Fuck”_. He whispered.

Draco hadn’t been this close to crying since his sixth year at school, hadn’t even cried at his own father’s funeral, but the minute he saw that fucking ring something inside him had broken. He had had to leave their office just to stop himself from hyperventilating right in front of her.

Well if she didn’t think he was a psychopath _before_, that little interaction would have just about done it.

Tension crackled down his spine as he dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling, breathing out the anger that was beginning to bubble inside of him like poison. This was his fault, his mind taunted him, refusing to believe anyone but himself had the power to inflict this level of misery.

He needed to sleep. He needed to think. He needed a _drink_.

Footsteps echoed along the expansive hallway as Draco stalked toward what used to be his father’s study. Moonlight illuminated the room, reflecting off the stark white dust sheets that had been thrown over the furniture after his mother had left the manor.

Draco wrenched open the door of the low bar that was built into the cabinetry along the far wall, grabbing the first bottle in his line of sight he upended the contents into his mouth. The burn down his throat was a pleasant distraction from that behind his eyelids.

He needed something stronger, could feel his fingers start to twitch as he fought the urge to summon Blaise. Fuck Blaise, he was the one who had convinced him to take this approach in the first place, this was _his fault_. Draco took another lengthy swig.

They had smoked through Blaise’s entire stash of dried gillyweed after his father’s funeral. Chewing it allowed you to breathe underwater, but smoke it and it was like your whole body was floating. Brain detached and cushioned in slippery warm fluid that washed down your spine and flooded your nerves, soothing them like a balm. The boys were sprawled out under the pergola at the end of the garden, Draco had told Blaise everything and they formulated a plan.

“You can’t just turn up all ‘Gilderoy Lockhart’ sunshine and rainbows on your first day together! She’ll think you’ve been imperiused!” Blaise snatched the spliff from his mouth and took a long drag.

“They love that stuff though”, Draco drawled back, “half the girls in Hogwarts were flicking it to him in our second year”. He started laughing as Blaise choked at the thought.

“Yeah, but they all know he’s a git now, don’t they? You’ve gotta ease her into it, give her the whole ‘I’m-Draco-I’m-a-broody-fucker’ number, and then slowly get her to realise you’re actually brilliant and smart, and she’ll be all over your dick before your contract's out”

“Plus!” Blaise went on, waving the last of the spliff in his face, “Girls like Granger want a fight, that’s like foreplay to them, innit? Get her all revved up and then pound it out all over your desk”. His face screwed up, he started making obscene thrusting gestures with his hips and letting out high pitched breathy moans. “Oh Draco, fuck me Draco, ohh, ohhhh”

“Fuck off!” Draco shoved Blaise and he lost his balance landing on his back heaving with laughter for what seemed like hours.

“Just stop being a pussy about it mate, you’ve liked her for what? Ten years… _ten years!_ Just make it happen already, I can’t cope with your moping”.

Ten years.

Draco’s mind had drifted into that no man’s land between sleep and wakefulness, clouded with the fog of alcohol he let his thoughts wander back to his first year at Hogwarts.

He had never been a good sleeper, used to wander the halls at night looking through the secret passageways the older slytherins had told him about and adding to the list with his own discoveries.

It was only halfway through the first term when he found the mirror, standing in the middle of an unused classroom. The first time he had started at his reflection he had thought it was some kind of curse, a sick joke.

He was older, a man, broad and haughty, gold hair and sharp grey eyes just the same. And at his side a woman, petite with curved hips that flared from a slender waist. He remembered how his eyes had trailed up her body taking in modest but shapely breasts, aristocratic neck, large white teeth, and a wild mane of curly brown hair that was undoubtedly _hers._

Draco had baulked and drawn back in disgust. Only then had he noticed the children running around their legs, pulling on their hands and smiling as if they were all a big happy family.

A happy family. The one thing he had never had. The one thing he desired most desperately and secretly, to be free of the mess his parents had made of all their lives and start again. Even at eleven he had known his mother had never loved his father, she tolerated him out of the duty of a pureblood marriage and nothing more. As for his father, loathing didn’t come close. Lucius Malfoy was a dictator, a soldier of war, and Draco the casualty of his prejudice. 

But Granger was a mudblood, and Draco knew that above all else it was forbidden, disgusting, wrong. He had run back down to the dungeons feeling sick to his stomach, promising himself to never go back, put it out of his mind and make sure she knew just how wrong she was for him.

Every night he went wandering after that he somehow found himself back at the mirror, staring at them together, feeling sickened at the yearning that had become an addiction. Every night until the night he returned from Christmas holidays and found the room empty. The mirror had gone, and Draco was devastated. If that was what heartbreak felt like, he swore he would never let himself feel weak like that again. Draco doubled down his efforts to push her away, stop himself from thinking about her in any way but that of a filthy little mudblood.

It didn’t stop the dreams though. At first, he would dream only of what he had seen in the mirror, them together, happy, a family.

As the years went by and he grew older the dreams had taken on a different quality. He would look in the mirror and see just the two of them, Granger would lean into him up on her tiptoes, hot breath whispering into his ear how much she wanted him, what she wished he would do to her and what she could do for him. Her tongue would lick over her lips, already red and bruised from his demanding kisses.

Sometimes she would sink to her knees, looking up and into his eyes coquettishly through her lashes as she stroked him. Licking from base to tip and taking him all the way inside her mouth, sucking with such force he swore he would implode.

Sometimes there were props. Draco would lean her over the desk, flipping up the skirt of her school uniform to reveal her taught, tanned arse cheeks framed with lacey white knickers. He would pull them aside, smoothing his hands over the round expanse of her backside, a hand holding her hips steady, and watch his cock disappear deep within her, feeling her shudder and clench, murmuring his name and desperate for him to drive into her, over and over, pushing her to the edge of oblivion.

Through the haze of memory, Draco became acutely aware of the pressure of his erection straining against his trousers. Eyes snapping open, his mind focused in on the scene he had fled from and a fresh wave of misery washed over him.

The hands on his timepiece gave him one hour to get back to work and start the new day. Scrubbing a palm over his face he headed upstairs and stood under an icy shower spray, numbing his mind and body. He had to fix this, his father was gone and his mother had fled from Britain, their poisonous ideals no longer held any power over him. Even if it was all over and she had pledged herself to another man, _Ron fucking Weasley,_ he couldn’t go down having never tried, never shown her who he truly was.


	8. Shifting tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter is a bit dialogue heavy and I realise it may feel a wee slow going at the moment but the set up is necessary, bear with :)

A large white coffee cup and a small clear vial appeared on the desk in front of Hermione. Jumping at the clink of glass against wood, she looked up and into Draco’s exhausted, deep circled eyes.

“Thought you might need these as much as I do”, he gave a half smile and a small cheers motion with his left hand, occupied with his own coffee cup.

She narrowed her eyes, not returning the smile.

“Oh, and this”, he reached into the pocket of his perfectly pressed, slate grey robes and threw a small stony mass in her direction. To Hermione’s amazement her reflexes kicked in and she actually managed to catch the bezoar quite smoothly.

“Just in case you thought I was trying to poison you”, he turned toward his desk with a smirk and dropped into his chair.

Hermione stared down at the smooth stone in her hands, a crease forming between her brows, then looked to the vial. It was wideye potion. Merlin, as exhausted as she felt she would kill to down that right now. Stubbornness stopped her from doing so, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a good intention well received after his behavior last night, the foul prat.

With a smooth nonchalant movement, she pushed both drinks to the far side of her desk and trained her eyes back to the final compiling of their document, all twelve feet of it, one brow raised in haughty defiance.

His eyes were on her, she could feel them slicing into her skull. _Well, carry right on Malfoy_, Hermione thought with grim satisfaction. She had had enough practice at the avoidance game with Ron and Harry, she could ignore him aaaall day.

“I…was unforgivably rude to you last night, Hermione.” His voice was hesitant, low but clear.

The utter shock of her name tumbling from his lips forced Hermione’s eyes to snap up into the stormy depths of Draco’s, they were locked on her with earnest intensity.

Their office felt like a vacuum, neither of them breathing, trapped in each other’s stare. Finally, Draco took a shuddering breath and looked down at his hands, fidgeting, then back up to Hermione. She still hadn’t said anything, had barely moved.

“And I owe you an apology”, he gestured vaguely to the coffee and frowned slightly, eyes no longer focusing directly on her face.

“Sometimes…it’s hard to let old history stay buried, and…I realise I owe you a better explanation for my behavior than that… I don’t know if now is the right time. I am sorry though. You asked yesterday for civility, I would like it if we could have that”. His eyes had come back to stare deeply into hers with a sincerity that felt completely disarming to Hermione. She swallowed audibly and released the breath she hadn’t quite realized she was still holding.

This was so far from Malfoy’s normal behavior she felt like she had whiplash, and yet she trusted his words. The intensity, the demeanor, so starkly contrasted to the man she knew, and yet so sincere it made everything else about him seem like an act. She didn’t quite know how to process that information.

“Okay.” She slowly nodded and reached over to grab the coffee cup, still warm- he had charmed it to stay heated. As she brought it to her lips, she lifted one corner of her mouth up in a small smile of acknowledgment, “Thank you”.

His answering smile took her breath away. He looked...beautiful, Hermione had to avert her eyes. This was _Malfoy_, she admonished herself for letting her thoughts go there. As she set her cup down and reached for her quill, she noticed her hands were shaking, and not from a sudden rush of caffeine. _What the fuck had just happened? _

After a few rounds of deep breathing her heart rate had slowed down and her thoughts had regained their normal orderly pattern. Hermione’s attention fell to the vial of potion sitting at the edge of her desk. After a pause she smirked in a very Malfoy-like fashion, picked it up and motioned with it in his direction. If there was one thing she knew, no matter how pleasant he was currently being, the ego that lay under the Draco Malfoy façade was still legend and she wanted to take him down a peg or two.

“Here”, she called, lobbing it toward him. “I think you need it more than I do…you look like shit!” She bit her lip, partly in amusement, partly in trepidation at what his reaction might be.

Draco stared at her dumbfounded for a second and then burst into a genuine laugh. “You always had such a way with words, Granger.” They laughed together and lapsed into a tentatively friendly silence.

\---000---

At thirteen minutes to four in the afternoon they made their way to Celestina’s office to present the completed amendments they had spent the last 24 hours slaving over.

“This is very good work. I’m immensely impressed with both of you, as I know the Minister and members of the Wizengamot will be when they receive this tomorrow”. She looked over the top of the parchment at them kindly, then set it aside and steepled her fingers under her chin.

“You’ll be aware that there is division among Europe and Britain as to the future direction of magical treatise such as this. After the war, the last thing we need is to be devoid of allies. Separation is the breeding ground for radicalization, and we need more young wizarding folk like the two of you to represent magical Britain to the rest of the world. Show them we are committed to the wellbeing of all magical kind, show them that even the oldest and most entrenched ideals have been reformed”. Her eyes came to rest seriously over Draco, and then to Hermione.

“There is an International magical cooperation summit happening in June next year, in Germany. Every ministry in Europe will have delegates in attendance and I would like to put forward the two of you as representatives of our department. These sorts of things tend to be spring boards for opportunity to further you careers.

You’ll be aware that every past Minister and member of the Wizengamot have undertaken secondments in foreign ministries, and If you’re serious about your futures here, this is the time to seize that opportunity”.

Celestina smiled again and clapped her hands together loudly, “Well, we can discuss all that further later. Head on home, you’ve both earned an early finish”. She stood, shepherding them out of her office and dismissing them for the day.

\---000---

After that speech Hermione felt too full of adrenaline to know quite what to do with herself. Being a delegate for the Ministry with the potential for a foreign secondment was a dream come true. She stood behind her desk bouncing on the balls of her feet, chewing her lip as visions of standing behind the central podium of the Reichstag Magisch and addressing the European Magical Quorum danced across her consciousness.

“You’re already there in your mind aren’t you?”, Draco chuckled and wandlessly summoned two tumblers and a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet behind his desk. “Come on, I think we’ve earned a celebration”.

Hermione eyed the glass of amber liquid he held out to her in trepidation. If anyone had told her she would be accepting a drink from Draco Malfoy a week ago she would have scoffed in their face. She really shouldn’t, were they even allowed to drink in the Department? Harry and Ron would be telling her to walk away and floo home right this instant…but the entire day had been like a shifting tide. Draco felt like a mystery she needed to solve, and if she was honest with herself, she wanted to stay.

She accepted the glass and took the bezoar out of the desk drawer where it had been stashed earlier that afternoon once her desk had become overrun with parchment.

“I assume I won’t be needing this”, Hermione cocked her brow toward him with the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.

“Not today Granger”. Draco walked forward with a sardonic smirk and took it from her hand, clinking his glass to hers and stepping back as he sipped, eyes remaining on her.

Five o’clock came and went and soon the footsteps and background chatter of their colleagues disappeared as the office cleared out for the day. The only ambient sound being the occasional whooshing of after-hours memos past their doorway. It turned out that when he wasn’t being a complete prick Draco could be really quite pleasant and interesting to talk to Hermione thought, still in shock at their current civility.

He told her about his library, the books the Malfoy family had collected over generations and the magical filing system they used to catalogue and reference. He loved books and reading almost as much as she did, it was a revelation.

Hermione told him about the dewy decimal system and showed him her old muggle library card just to test him and see how he would react. The mere mention of something muggle-related would have sent the Draco Malfoy she was used to being around into a fit of spiteful rage. He eyed it with confusion and laughed lightly, “I’m amazed its intact, I would’ve thought with the amount of use you’d put it through it would be in tatters by now”. His eyes were teasing, and she felt warm.

Too warm, Hermione realized with embarrassment. She was tipsy, it was well past dinner time and she really shouldn’t be here, Ron would be furious if he found out. She stood up abruptly, head spinning slightly, and cleaned her finished glass with a flick of her wand.

“I need to go”, she collected her bag, hurriedly pulling on her coat and marching determinedly toward the door.

“Granger!”

She paused, turning her head back from the door.

“Have a good night”. Draco watched her leave, heart pounding in his chest.


End file.
